


A Murderer's Man

by ItchyToaster



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Africaans, M/M, Mentions of blood and gore, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, not major, south african Sebastian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItchyToaster/pseuds/ItchyToaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not until you're hurt that he starts to cry<br/>He won't miss you until he's said goodbye<br/>He's a Murderer, a Murderer,<br/>So clever, so smart<br/>It's not until you break that he gives you his heart</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Sebastian!” Jim called into the slowly dimming hallway of the flat. His luggage wheels and the tap of his shoes on the wood were the only sounds that bounced off the high ceilings. The man had stayed a few days away from the blond to clean up a mess by one of his lower operatives. Only planning to stay the night and managing to stay the week, Jim hadn’t been in contact with his sniper (dare he say, ‘lover’) in that amount of time. Jim set his luggage by the long table that was to the left of him, taking off his suit jacket and gently placing that a top it. He called out into the empty place again, not a sound in their home. 

The brunette turned the corner, squinting slightly as he looked out the large french doors that lead onto the terrace, the sun slowly setting on the horizon. The light poured through the open space, creating the silhouette of the small round table and the man that was currently sitting there. 

_ “ _ _ Jou bliksem.”  _ The intoxicated man growled, the amber liquid in his hand glimmering in the majesty of the sunset. 

Jim sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes. “You know I don’t understand Afrikaans. Just say hello.” He muttered, walking over to the chair opposite to Sebastian and sitting down slowly. 

The ex-Colonel looked up at Jim, blue eyes narrowed and breath almost angry. His beard had grown out, unable to hide the dark curls of his hair. His hair had lengthened, his usually bleach blond hair dark at the roots, exposing who he really was. Jim would usually be annoyed, saying first impressions were everything, especially on jobs. Sebastian stayed silent, only taking a sip of his drink before his eyes flicked to the window, watching as the sun crept lower and lower. 

“You’re looking well.” Jim said in a flat tone, annoyed but still wanting to speak to the other man. 

Blue eyes narrowed at him. “ _ Jy selfsugtige gat- _ ” Sebastian’s jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes for a second. His fingers were tight on the glass, looking to break it without remorse. Sebastian swallowed, speaking slowly. “Not one word-”

“You know why-”

“Shut up Moriarty.” 

And he did. The brunette mouth closed, brow furrowed and dark eyes wide with anger. Sebastian hadn’t called Jim by his sir name in what felt like months. Of course, Jim was used to the playful defiance that went along with the Moran package, but pure rage was rare. It was like depriving an animal. 

“You do NOT get to waltz through those doors like nothing happened.”

“It was one week-”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD YOU BLIND IDIOT.” Sebastian looked like a beast. His blue eyes were wild with drunken rage. His teeth gnashed when he yelled; his voice seeming to fill every void in their open flat. He was about to raise himself from his seat, and Jim glared at him because he was annoyed with his infection of concern. Jim swallowed, silent as Sebastian waited for an answer. 

 

Once realizing he would not receive one, Sebastian shook his head laughing in disbelief in himself for actually waiting for Jim to continue. “I’m going to go shower.” He muttered, finishing the drink in his glass before rising and walking away. 

Jim sighed, slouching a bit in his seat. He didn’t bother to call for Sebastian as he walked away, knowing it would end in disaster. The brunette didn’t truly understand Sebastian’s concern. He was always asking, always curious about Jim’s whereabouts and state of being, physically and mentally. It was an annoying thing Jim had to bear with in his opinion, but this… this was new. Of course even drunk off his arse, Sebastian would still slur his words, Afrikaans, English, or any other language in that mind of his; he would still be concerned, and still just annoyed. He would sigh through his nose, or roll his eyes and get Jim to take care of himself for once. 

Once the shower was on, Jim rose from his seat, going to get his luggage and unpack from his trip. The sun’s rays now barely touched the railing of the terrace, just a sliver of it showing over the horizon. 

Sebastian was in the shower, evident by the trail of clothing from their room to the bathroom, knowing how it annoyed the hell out of Jim. The brunette rolled his eyes, using all of his willpower to not clean up after the South African. 

Their room was large enough; one large door that led into Jim’s beloved walk-in closet and on the opposite side of the room was their (unfortunately, unmade) bed. The smoke colored sheets were tossed over, of course Sebastian sleeping on the left side of the bed as custom. A small smile tugged on Jim’s lips at the thought as he set the dark blue suitcase on the bed, unzipping it and putting all his dirty clothes in the hamper, and his suits in a dry clean bag for Sebastian to take the following morning. The shower turned off as Jim picked up the now empty suitcase to put in the closet. He stayed silent, not wanting to pluck any whiskers from his already vicious tiger. 

As Sebastian entered, Jim exited, walking into the closet without a word. With every fight, no matter the case, Jim would never apologize. He never had, and most of the time, Sebastian would brush it off. It wasn’t any skin off his back. But this time… this time it was different. 

Sebastian was drying his hair with a soft white towel from the heated rack, another hanging around his hips as he opened the door to the bathroom. The door closed to the closet, and his blue eyes went to Jim, who swallowed. 

The blond laughed softly, shaking his head a bit. 

“You still don’t understand, do you?” He asked, looking the brunette in the eye. 

Jim’s brow furrowed at the accusation that he ‘didn’t understand’. “What do you mean? I practically understand every-”

“No you git,” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Why I was angry with you.” The ex-soldier rested in the doorway of the bathroom, drying his outgrown blond and black waves. 

It wasn’t like Jim didn’t understand, because he did. Of course he did; it was pretty simple, after all. Of course Sebastian cared about Jim’s well-being for some absurd reason that Jim still didn’t quite understand. Sure, Jim paid rent, put food on the table, practically owned Sebastian in every sense of the word, but no… it wasn’t an urgent state of affairs, because even in the event that Jim died, almost all of his employees would be under Sebastian’s watch. There was something more. It wasn’t just concern. It was something more than that, something in those impossibly blue eyes that Jim was missing. It was staring him in the face, he could feel it. He could feel it in that bashful yet domineering smirk that was plastered on that African bastard’s face. Sebastian was right when Jim said he was blind because he couldn’t understand for the life of him. He couldn’t find the answer. It wasn’t just a case of well being or concern, not even care. It was something more like-

 

“Oh.” 

Sebastian only chuckled, standing straight again as he tossed the hand towel to the sink. Jim didn’t have the words to scold him and tell him to hang the towel up. He felt numb. Sure, there were times when Jim would be crying Sebastian’s name and times were he would melt under his touch, but never in his life would he have considered it something so… intimate. 

He could feel Sebastian inch closer, gaze seeming to swallow him, seeing only him, wanting only him. James swallowed slowly, dark eyes looking up at Sebastian and staying silent. 

“I worried about you, Jim.” Sebastian murmured softly, close enough to touch him. The brunette didn’t speak, his dark eyes only flickering from Sebastian’s eyes to his lips and back again.  “Do you know why, now?” He asked, his voice soft and deep, resonating in Jim. 

Jim, usually quipping back with his short and clipped words, only breathed out a soft ‘yes’ in response. His usual dominating presence shrinking for the first time in what felt like ages. 

Sebastian was centimeters from Jim’s lips, blue eyes fixed on Jim and only Jim.  “Tell me.”

The brunette’s eyes looked into the other’s, and lips parted and eyes unmoving.  Sebastian’s brow arched in a challenge. “Say it.”

 

Jim was never one for sentimental drama. He was never one for sentiment, but Sebastian lived off of it. He would swamp Jim in affection if he could, and Jim was more than aware of that. 

A laugh left his lips as he spoke. “You… you love me, don’t you, Tiger?” He asked, brow arched and dark eyes gazing past Sebastian’s face and looking deep into his soul. 

Sebastian sighed softly, a grin on his lips as he cupped the side of Jim’s face and pressing him to the side of the bed. 

“Yes.” He sighed against Jim’s lips, kissing him slowly. He trailed over Jim’s skin, down to his pale neck as he whispered it over. His mouth tasted like whiskey and too many cigarettes. It was familiar and inviting to Jim, wanting to get lost in pleasure. 

“Yes, god, yes.” Sebastian whispered the words softly, like a prayer, kissing Jim’s neck and leaving small marks on his exposed skin. His calloused fingers unbuttoned Jim’s starch white shirt slowly, knowing how furious Jim could get if Sebastian was anything but gentle with Jim’s clothing. 

As Sebastian moved lower, Jim’s fingers tangled in Sebastian’s hair, eyelids fluttering closed and a sigh left his lips. “Sebastian,” He breathed softly, trying to get his attention, but the intoxicated blond had no intentions of stopping. 

 

“Sebastian.”

The man stopped, looking at the brunette. “Sebastian…” Jim was trying to pick through his mind, for once not wanting to sound like a complete arsehole. Moran swallowed, moving away from Jim. 

“No, no. I understand.” Sebastian muttered, wanting to sound angry, but the tone ended up disappointed, broken, but not surprised. He quickly left Jim’s side, going into the closet to dig out a pair of sweatpants before heading out to the living room. 

“Night, boss.”

And just like that, the moment had passed. 

Jim swallowed, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling like he was on the edge of danger. He breathed slowly, almost relieved that it was over. It felt too close, too personal for him. He couldn’t take it. 

He quickly stripped for the shower, desperate to wash off the feeling. 

 

. . . . .

Sebastian rarely slept on the couch for three reasons:

  1. It was one of the most uncomfortable things he had ever placed his arse on. Ever. 
  2. Jim would always call him back to bed with that needy Irish purr that Sebastian loved so much
  3. Jim would shoo Sebastian away if he wanted to, but most of the time, Sebastian could never resist the warmth of the sheets and the other body that occupied them as well.



Even so, Sebastian resided himself to the couch instead of sleeping next to the man who he currently was not on the same terms with. With little to no sleep, Sebastian was up early, making himself coffee before throwing on a sweatshirt and going for a run. It was custom for Jim to sleep late since Sebastian had gotten him on an actual sleep schedule (even if that schedule was from 3AM-whenever the hell he’s up). 

The autumn breeze was cool, the sun slowly coming up over the horizon and the world waking up together. This time of year was Sebastian’s favorite. The weather was perfect. The inbetween of summer to winter and the crisp fall air… all of it calmed Sebastian, taking him away from the constant reminders of who he was, who he would become, and who he had been.  

The smoke of his cigarette caught in the wind, disappearing into the world in a few moments. He sighed softly, the fag on it’s last few moments. Sebastian finished it, trying to blow away his problems in the tar ridden smoke.  

His foot was stepping over the threshold,  the silence wrapping around him like a greeting from the house. Sebastian called into the empty flat hearing Jim’s voice echo from the kitchen in response. The strawberry blond followed the sound of his boss’s voice as well as the smell of coffee. 

Jim was on the other side of the counter, dressed in a perfectly pressed white shirt and black slacks. His suit jacket hung on the side of one of the chairs next to the glass door. The brunette’s wide dark eyes were glued to his computer, his right hand typing away madly while the other held his coffee cup. 

“Good Morning.” He murmured into the ceramic, not as much as giving Sebastian a glimpse. The taller man didn’t say a word, striding into the kitchen and looking at the manilla folder that was on the white granite counter. 

“That’s your assignment for today.” Jim said, his voice flat. So that’s how he was going to act. 

“And you?” Sebastian asked, picking up the folder and flipping through the file. 

“Errands.”

“What kind.”

“ _Errands_.” Jim’s voice sounded harsher, and the second time his eyes gazed up at his sniper with dead, cold eyes. If looks could kill, Sebastian would have been dead months ago. 

Instead of prying anymore, Sebastian only nodded, setting the folder down and going to take a shower. 

Jim, instead of rushing about the city to clear his head, decided to drown himself in his work. Sending Sebastian out on a small mission would do the trick, give him time to clear his head. He didn’t even want to think about the night previous. He didn’t want to dwell, or analyze, or question it. Jim wanted the memory gone. Erased. 

 

. . . . . 

Sebastian was looking through the file again on the way to the airport. He knew why he was being sent on a trip rather than a mission. He just didn’t want to think about it. 

The assignment was straightforward and simple enough. Moran was teamed up with a few other operatives, listen in on a call, and blow the place to the ground. So easy he could do it in his sleep. 

The file contained the names of who he would work with, some he remembered from previous jobs, others not. The idea was to prevent a shipment of heroin from going overseas. Under Moriarty’s terms the shipment was to be taken to a disclosed location once the cargo was acquired. 

Sebastian knew he would have been away from the flat for at least three days if not more. 

…

“Hello?

_ [unintelligible yelling] [gunshots] _

“Sebastian?”

_ “Shite--  _ _ Jim _ _ [gasp] [sigh].”  _

“Sebastian? Sebastian what happened?  _ Sebastian _ .”

_ “Its Hester--[unintelligible yelling] He---BANKINS WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GO. NOW.” _

“Moran what the HELL DID YOU DO?”

_ “Everything is under control,  Jim. We-- he’s dead but [MORAN!]” _

“SEBASTIAN?”

_ [explosion] [gunshots] [static] _

[YOUR CALL HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED. PLEASE HANG UP AND TRY AGAIN.]


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian’s mud covered combat boots stepped over the threshold, leaning on Moriarty for support. The corners of his vision slowly started to go black, as he felt himself move from one part of the house to the other. His blue eyes blinked slowly up at Jim, his body numb from pain medication.  He heard Jim lecture him, but it was somewhere distant and far away. The world felt soft at the edges, like on the brink of being intoxicated but not quite. Sebastian dragged his feet, Jim carrying him into the bathroom and letting him rest against the white cabinets while he ran a bath.

“You blind idiot.” He growled, his white shirt covered in blood, sleeves rolled up and face stained with Sebastian’s blood. The sniper could only gaze up at Jim, dark eyes piercing through his soft, tired eyes. Jim’s jaw clenched at the sight, the sniper looking so pitiful while sopor. He tried not to let his emotions get the best of him, looking at Sebastian with his dark cold stare. 

When Jim struck Sebastian across the face, Sebastian could only hear the sound. The glass in his skin sunk deeper with the hit. Sebastian didn’t flinch.

Jim’s presence was gone, and Sebastian’s limp head rested to the right, eyes fixed on the flow of steaming hot water. 

It stopped, and Jim got to his knees in front of Sebastian. 

“Jim,” The blond tried to start, wanting to explain. His voice felt it came from somewhere else besides his mouth. It didn’t feel, or sound right. It was soft, barely there. 

“Don’t.” Jim snapped. Sebastian’s shirt was missing, the memory of where it went was lost at the moment. Bandages covered the stitches on his abdomen, ones that were tended to on the jet back, but shards of glass and wood were still in his chest and right arm. He took off the blood soaked bandages, tossing them in the trash before cleaning the stitches with rubbing alcohol. Sebastian didn’t move a bit, only watching Jim with drowsy eyes.

Somewhere above himself, Sebastian could hear Jim urge him to get up, letting him sit on the edge of the bath before stripping him to his briefs. 

“In.” Jim muttered, easing Sebastian into the water. 

Sebastian’s head rolled back, resting against the basin of the tub. The water was just above his feet, blood pooling around him as it washed off of him. 

 

Jim let out a sigh, kneeling next to Sebastian. He tilted Sebastian’s head towards him, cupping his face gently with one hand while the other picked shards of glass from his cheekbone with a pair of tweezers. 

“You blind idiot.” He growled again, repeating his words in such frustration as he started placing all the glass onto a towel by his knee.  Sebastian was still numb from pain medication; everything felt blurred and warm. Every touch was comforting, and every look from Jim felt loving. His dark blue eyes opened and closed slowly, like he was in a dream.  

Jim worked in silence, Sebastian not making a sound. Once all the glass and wood was out of Sebastian’s shoulder, the brunette cleaned the blood off Sebastian’s body with a wash rag. He worked quickly, trying to detach himself from Sebastian. An intoxicated Sebastian was never good. He was a soft, kind, gentle mess, like a tiger with catnip--no, exactly like that. Jim knew he had to clean out his wounds before the medication wore off, and soon. At the moment, Sebastian was a silent, unmoving, content version of himself.  

His blue eyes gazed up at him, a small smile on his face. 

Jim’s eyes narrowed.  

“Wha’tis it boss?” Sebastian asked, words slurred as he tried to stay as focused as he could.

“Hush. Sit up.” Jim said, his voice detached and callous, trying to separate himself from Sebastian.

Though wanting to protest, the sniper sat up, letting the other man clean him up without a word. 

Jim drained the tub afterwards, standing up and getting a towel from the heated rack to dry Sebastian’s hair. His roots were dark and soft compared to the rest of his bleached waves, so desperate to conceal his past. Jim pushed Sebastian's hair away from his face, looking into the sniper’s tired, bloodshot eyes. Jim sighed, drying his hair with the towel, occasionally running his fingers through Sebastian's hair, parting it so he could see his face. Sebastian leaned into his touch, eyes closing as he sighed contently. The brunette swallowed nervously, letting Sebastian’s head rest against the edge of the tub while he tended to the other’s wounds, putting bandages on the exposed cuts. 

 

“Up.”

Sebastian got to his feet, still dressed in soaked briefs.  Jim rolled his eyes, helping the sniper out of the tub and handing him a towel. By now the drugs had worn off just enough for Sebastian to function. 

“Go change. Get some rest.” Jim murmured, and Sebastian nodded, walking out the door to their bedroom. 

 

The brunette let out a sigh of relief, looking around his once bleach white bathroom and seeing blood staining almost every surface. Sebastian’s blood.  _ His  _ Sebastian’s blood. Jim swallowed his emotions, going to get the bleach from the laundry room to scrub the place clean and cleanse it of the memory. 

 

. . . . .

Sebastian didn’t set foot outside the bedroom, only slipping  in and out of consciousness. He could still feel that strike across the face from Jim’s cold, almost skeletal hand. He could hear his voice, sometimes directed towards him, sometimes not. He could remember Jim’s dark eyes looking at him, peering deep into his soul. Sometimes his fingers carded through his hair gently, other times he wouldn't, but Sebastian remembered Jim’s touch, violent or tender.

His bones creaked as he sat up slowly, and his stomach burned with pain as he stretched. Looking over his bandages with tired eyes, Sebastian started to remember what happened. He groaned, getting up slowly. Tossing the dark sheets off his body, Sebastian threw his legs over the bed, noting that his bandages had been changed, and his wounds were stitched up. The blond sighed, getting up and walking out the bedroom.

“Jim.” He groaned, but heard no response. 

“Jim!”

“In the kitchen.” 

 

Sitting at the coffee table dressed in a perfectly pressed suit like a doll was Jim Moriarty. His hair was combed back in one neat swoop, fingers manicured and face shaven, but under his eyes were dark, dark circles. Jim gazed at Sebastian for a second, typing away on his laptop.

“Morning, Boss.” Sebastian greeted with a sigh, standing next to Jim awkwardly.

“Good Morning, Sebastian.” Jim said with an annoyed tone, looking the blond up and down. 

“How long was I out?” Sebastian asked, looking at the brunette, who purposely ignored him while typing. He didn’t answer until he finished, sending the email with an almost violent tap on the laptop.

“Hm? Oh,” Jim picked up the mug off the round white table next to his laptop, turning his attention to Sebastian. “A week.” He muttered into the ceramic, standing up and walking past the blond.  

Sebastian paused, brow furrowing at Jim’s passive behavior.  

“And you?” He asked, leaning against the table as Jim walked past him.

The brunette set his mug in the sink, looking up at Sebastian with a hollow stare. “Me?” He asked, voice almost dead. “Cleaning up after your  _ mess _ .” He growled, glaring at the sniper.  

Sebastian almost scoffed, jaw shifting and swallowing. He stayed silent as Jim walked to the other side of the counter, resting up against it as Sebastian stood ridged. “What?” Jim growled. “You thought you'd wake up and everything would be perfect? Is that what you wanted?” 

Sebastian didn't answer.

“You thought,” Jim walked towards him, eyes narrowed as he spoke. “You  _ thought, _ ” he growled, a finger pointed at Sebastian like a gun. “That when you woke up from your bloody dream, sleeping beauty, that everything would just disappear?” Jim snarled, teeth gnashing like an animal. Sebastian watched as the other man became furious with rage. His dark eyes were wide, every word that left his lips was like a stab to the gut, a warning of how powerful he could really be. It was almost unnerving. He never got like this. Sometimes with clients, and maybe when talking about Sherlock, but never to Sebastian. Close, but never like this. 

 

Moran shook his head, eyes closing as he tried not to lash out at the brunette. 

“Jim-”

“No, Moran. Not this time.” Jim growled, voice shaking as those wide blue eyes looked at him. “You  _ ruined  _ it.” It sounded like Jim was trying to keep his temper, trying to stay angry at Sebastian. 

“No I didn’t Jim. I got the call you wanted.” Sebastian sighed, trying to be the rational one.

“AT WHAT BLOODY PRICE MORAN?” Jim roared, eyes wide as he slammed his fist on the table. 

Sebastian stayed silent, swallowing and watching Jim. 

“You can’t… you can’t keep putting yourself in danger like this, Moran.”

“I have before.”

“No, not like this.” Jim sighed, shaking his head and looking away from Sebastian. 

The sniper tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Jim looked up at Sebastian, brow furrowed. Suddenly his voice was lost somewhere in his throat, unable to answer Sebastian’s question. 

“I can’t keep cleaning up after you, Sebastian.” Jim said flatly, looking the blond up and down before walking back to his laptop. 

Sebastian’s brow furrowed as he watched Jim get back to work as if nothing happened. Of course there were days when Jim’s emotions would be swept up like a whirlpool, sometimes drowning Sebastian even if he didn’t fully understand what it all meant, but for some reason this time it felt different. Jim’s rage felt misdirected. It felt forced, but necessary, and for once, Sebastian could actually tell Jim was lying, and whatever it was, he was bad at hiding it. 

 

“So that’s it then?” Sebastian asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. His voice had an edge of frustration, still annoyed with the way Jim was behaving. 

Jim sighed, rolling his eyes and glaring up at Sebastian. “Yes.” 

 

. . . . .

 

Sebastian trailed into the kitchen the following morning, the sun barely over the horizon but still bright enough to illuminate the open kitchen and living room. On the table was another assignment, on the front in Jim’s eligible but graceful hand were the words, ‘don’t screw this one up’. Moran rolled his eyes, making himself a cup of coffee before even touching the manilla folder. 

Inside were the targets, ones that were working with Hester before their mission. The information was pretty standard: location, duration, preferred weaponry to be used, and who was to be killed. It seemed so standard, so professional. It didn’t sit right with Sebastian as he finished his coffee. Jim felt distant, nonexistent. Sebastian felt like another one of his pawns instead of his right hand. There was something unsettling and undermining about it to Sebastian, and though he wanted to shake Jim awake to get him on a normal schedule, Sebastian knew he’d be better off just leaving the man alone. Jim did that sometimes. He would draw within himself, sometimes for weeks at a time, but not in a while. During those times Jim would rarely speak, or even be around Sebastian. He was like a ghost to the sniper, and though it had been awhile since that happened, Sebastian was getting worried that it was to happen again if Jim kept their work schedules so separate. 

 

…

“Jim?” Sebastian dumped his duffel bag onto the ground, finally home by dusk as predicted by the folder. There was a soft reply from Jim’s office, and Sebastian followed the sound to the source, which sat behind the dark mahogany desk, eyes glued to the computer. Sebastian felt himself relax a bit at the sight of Jim. His dark hair and even darker eyes were always comforting to him in a way. 

“Evening, Boss.” He sighed when Jim didn’t look up from his laptop in three minutes. 

“Hello, Sebastian…” Jim murmured like an afterthought, still typing away on his computer. The South African’s brow furrowed, but he accepted the greeting, though as machine like as it was. 

Sebastian didn’t waste any time peeling off his clothes and curling under the gray sheets of their bed. It smelled like eucalyptus and cigarettes, like Moriarty and himself. It was comforting, grounding. It smelled like stability and prosperity and downfall and permanence and… home. Sebastian reviled in the smell, in the sheets, in the feelings and memories, knowing the next day he would be out on another job. 

It wasn’t until hours later that Jim slipped into bed, but his usual warm presence was gone. He felt cold like ice even though he didn’t even touch Sebastian. There was something almost machine like about Jim. His presence was ghostly, and his usual warm touch vanished. Sebastian, though half asleep, felt it. He felt the difference and the change. There was something shifting between them, and it was almost unnerving. Though he wanted to pry through Jim’ vast mind, there was something telling him not to, knowing that Jim would just push him further and further away though they still shared the same bed. 

 

. . . . .

The weeks that past felt different. Sebastian and Jim slept in the same bed, but Jim’s usual warm presence felt distant, almost nonexistent. There wasn’t a ‘good night’ nor a good morning. Jim would stay up late, writing up Sebastian’s assignments so when the sniper would wake up in the morning, he would be out of the house before Jim even opened his eyes. He said it was best if Sebastian was out as soon as possible so they could ‘put this mess behind them’. It was purposeful, but Sebastian didn’t question it. They rarely saw each other, which was something comforting and unsettling at the same time. Sure, there was nothing truly intimate about them, but Jim’s limbs never wrapped around him in the dark of the night, not one kiss on his neck, nor a soft whisper for his body. It felt strange. Not because it stopped, but because Sebastian missed it. 

 

It was dark when he got back to the flat, tossing the keys on the table and shrugging off his suit jacket. Sebastian had just gotten back from the airport after successfully completing the mission he royally screwed up weeks ago. He hadn’t seen Jim in person for more than thirty minutes in what felt like years. 

Although that was the case, he didn’t bother calling Jim’s name. Instead, Sebastian strolled into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. 

Sebastian’s limbs felt weak, his body aching. He downed the drink in one quick move, setting the glass down and going to the bathroom for a well deserved shower. 

Jim’s presence felt absent. 

The blond tossed his clothes into the hamper, and though Jim always said his suits had to be dry cleaned, Sebastian was too tired to give a damn. He splashed his face with cold water, suddenly feeling wide awake though it was almost midnight. His eyes reached his reflection, and for once in what felt like a lifetime, Sebastian took a good look at himself.

His roots were finally bleached, but his beard was dark and short, outgrown from the lack of time to get a clean shave. His blue eyes seemed like such a contrast from his mixed skin. Sebastian cursed under his breath, running a hand through his blond waves and trying to look at himself without remembering who he really was.

_ “A better life, my liefde, a better life.” _

Sebastian swallowed, eyes darting away from his reflection and going to turn on the shower. 

Usually, Sebastian would always keep his showers bone chilling cold, and less than ten minutes. But now, after so long of being from hotel to motel and standing for what felt like days on top of buildings, peering through a sniper scope, Sebastian turned the shower on to a pleasant temperature, the steam rising to the ceiling.  

Jim was nowhere to be seen. 

 

…

 

By the time Sebastian stepped out of the shower, he felt like the was inside of a cloud. The bathroom was filled to the brim with steam, and Sebastian could barely see in front of him. It was a comforting feeling, like being shielded from the world inside a delicate, warm, innocent place. It let him forget where he was, or who he was, even if it was just for a moment, but it was soon over as he heard the door to the bedroom open.

 

After wrapping a towel around his waist, Sebastian opened the bathroom door, letting the steam out. Jim was there, changing silently into a t-shirt and sweatpants without so much as a glance. Sebastian didn’t notice, only brushing his teeth.

 

“You didn’t say hello.” Jim said after a long length of silence. His voice sounded almost confused.

Sebastian spit in the skin and rinsed his mouth, turning to Jim with a sigh. 

“Was there a need to?”

Jim looked personally offended by the answer, eyes widening a bit, but he physically swallowed his temper.

“No,” He started, looking over Sebastian’s exposed chest… almost for a little too long before he started to speak.  

“...You have new scars.” He murmured softly, eyes still on his chest before they darted back up to Sebastian’s eyes. 

Sebastian looked at his chest before back at Jim, nodding.  “What about it?” He asked, confused, but also challenging his statement in a way. It was different. It felt like when they just met, but… it felt like there was also more to it, like the words were a mask to a much different statement. 

Jim only shook his head, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the bed. “Just observing.’” He said plainly, but that wasn’t enough for Sebastian, not tonight. 

“No… what is it, Jim?” Sebastian asked, walking towards the brunette, eyebrow arched. “You were like this when you fetched me from Colchester.” He murmured, mostly to himself. He waited for a moment, but Jim only sat silently, eyes shifting away from Sebastian’s gaze in a Moriarty type way and less of a Jim way. 

Sebastian paused, eyes narrowing for a second and brow arching. “Is that it? Because I got hurt again? You don’t want me in harms way?” Sebastian pried, and Jim’s jaw shifted, arms crossed over his body. His fingers drummed on his bicep, eyes to the floor as Sebastian spoke. Asking Jim questions was like unhinging a safe.  

“Oh, christ Jim.” The blond ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. A soft chuckle left his lips with the sentence. It wasn’t teasing, or because it was humorous. He was just…  _ surprised _ . Surprised that a man like him could even have a  _ little _ concern for anyone, sometimes even for himself. “What is it, hm?” His brow arched, head tilting up just slightly as the power slowly shifted. It was overwhelming. For so long Jim had been quiet, never once answering any questions. It took six months to find out the man’s shoe size, and even then it was only because he asked Sebastian to go buy them.  “Is the Moran name that valuable that you have to treat me like--”

“Shut up Moran.” Jim snapped, dark eyes glaring up at him. Usually those eyes would be a clear warning to back off, but the blond didn’t care. Even if the bastard would beat him with a steel pipe; he wanted to finally get his answer.

“Am I wrong?” Sebastian’s head tilted to the side, a hint of curiosity in his voice.  

Jim didn’t answer. 

“If not that, then what?” The sniper pushed himself off the door, walking over to Jim until he was just arms length away. “Do I know too much now? Afraid I get captured and sell you out?” 

“You that isn’t true, Sebastian. Give it a rest.” Jim growled, fists, clenched as he tried to hold himself together. His dark eyes never looked away from Sebastian. 

“...No,” He started, walking closer until his body was just centimeters away from Jim’s. “I think I know…” He said, his lips curling into a devious smirk. 

“Do you Sebastian?” Jim growled, hot again with anger, his whole behavior becoming defensive as Sebastian came closer. “Pray tell, what  _ nonsense  _ have you come up with this time in that thick skull of yours?” Jim bit the words like a beast biting into the side of it’s prey. 

“It may be a long shot, Moriarty,” Sebastian started, Jim’s spiteful words strumming a chord in him. “But I think you actually care.” 

Jim nearly struck him across the face, and as much as Sebastian would let him, this time, he gripped Jim’s wrist, looking him in the eye. 

“You can pretend it isn’t real, Jim,” Sebastian murmured. Jim’s dark eyes were wide with the look of murder. Jim would have shredded him if it wasn’t for Sebastian’s brute force, but Jim stayed silent, his face speaking wonders about how horrified he was by the sniper. 

“But...” Sebastian’s hand cupped the right side of Jim’s face, his thumb gently rubbing his lower lip, open slightly in a pout.  “you can’t hide this.” Jim tried to bite Sebastian’s thumb, but the sniper’s grip got tighter, and the criminal stopped, breath hot with anger. Sebastian only chuckled. “The way your lips pout like a child that  _ desperately _ wants something,” The sniper chuckled, his voice sweet and dark like melted chocolate. “or how your pupils are blown when you stare…” Sebastian smirked.

Jim tried to hold onto his anger, but it slowly turned to something of fear. Sebastian’s grip loosened, and his hand tilted Jim’s chin up slowly. 

“Am I wrong?”

“Wrong about what?” Jim growled, trying to keep the last of his anger.

Sebastian chuckled softly, leaning in close to the other man, lips brushing against Jim’s gently as he spoke. 

“You love me, Moriarty.” 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
